


A lesson in humility

by StormXPadme



Series: "Tales Untold" & "Tales Beyond": (Don't) Need-to-know [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Come Eating, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Table Sex, Valinor, Wall Sex, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme
Summary: Once they're married, there's no question about who's in control in the bedroom.***While this oneshot is part of my main verse, it's not necessary to know any of the other parts to understand it.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: "Tales Untold" & "Tales Beyond": (Don't) Need-to-know [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125545
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	A lesson in humility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feanoriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feanoriel/gifts).



The first time, she does it for him is two days after their wedding.

They haven’t bothered riding back home yet and don’t mean to for a while; thanks to the self-chosen solitude of their wedding, far from all the family and political drama in their lives, the ceremony has been nothing but bliss and passion. It’s brought a peace of mind that Nerdanel hasn’t known in her newly-wed husband before.

Sadly, it doesn’t last.

Once they’ve properly started getting to know each other’s bodies, and Fëanáro is really getting the hang of what she needs and craves, he gets cocky, and she’s not here for that.

The first time he surprises her from behind when she comes back from collecting firewood. He has her against the wall of their little hut in a flash, and she lets him because it’s exciting, and because the way, his artistic fingers between her legs have her aching and wet for him in seconds, is satisfying enough. She will find bruises down her spine later and her thighs hurt from where they’re wrapped around his narrow hips, but she comes with his name on her lips two times and that’s good enough.

When he sits her down on the dinner table later and eats her out for half an hour instead of taking in the food that he’s spent the last hour making for her, she _wants_ to object. He doesn’t even give her a time to _think_ if she’s ready for another so very touch yet, or to get somewhat comfortable between hot plates and sharp blades. Besides they haven’t really stopped for more than a few sips of water ever since they bonded, and she’s starting to feel dizzy.

But what that elf is doing with his mouth on her folds is so good, it’s probably forbidden. So instead of pushing him away, she buries his hand in his raven hair to pull him closer and clenches up around his tongue, asking for more, just more. And when he looks up at her then with a triumphant grin, his chin and tunic glistening with her lust, she’s too wrung out to give him the smack over the head he deserves.

Next time though, she’s prepared.

She feels him stir in her half-sleep just in time, before even the lights outside their window have started to change, and charges. She’s still sore from their last coupling, but not enough to not move out from under his arm quickly before he can do more than slip his hand under her night tunic.

Nerdanel flips him over easily and grabs his arms as if they were about to spar, chuckling when she feels him harden against her crotch.

He’s always loved it that she almost matches his strength, and matches his skills enough to take him hand to hand when she’s really trying. She’s not sure he would have married her if she didn’t.

Today, that is very much to her advantage. She’s fast enough to reach for the silken cloths she prepared under the pillow earlier before he can really consider fighting back, and finishes wrapping them around his wrists before he’s started frowning or can whisper a question in their bond. A moment later, his arms are rendered immobile against the headboard, and Nerdanel sits back with a satisfied nod against his thighs, blowing an annoying strand of red hair away from her forehead.

She sees him struggle, natural apprehension mixing into that damn pride of his that she will never be able to cure him of completely, even if she wanted to try, and takes his tight jaw in both hands to breathe a kiss against his lips until he stills.

“And now, dear husband, we talk.”

It turns out, there isn’t much talking once she’s told him that just because she enjoys something, doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a choice about it, and that she’s ready to go anywhere and on any adventure with him, as long as he doesn’t just assume her consent.

Idle fingertips are casually tweaking the dark skin of his nipples as she speaks, until he’s writhing under her, the growing dampness of her sex soaking first her undergarments and then his as she moves up and down against his length. Occasionally, he fights to reach out to her and pull her close, to get what she’s refusing him for the moment, but she’s a rider and a hunter; her knots are foolproof.

Only when he relaxes down into the mattress, she bends down to kiss him, caressing up his muscled arms until she has his hands in hers, and asks him in the fiery red and marble white colors of their melted minds if he wants out. Because that’s how you do it. And he has to learn how to talk to her or at least not close off so many parts of his mind, if all of this is supposed to work out.

Fëanáro gives a half-shrug instead of an answer and bites his lip when she withdraws. He’s not someone to give up control easily. It’s been taken from him one time too often when he first lost his mother and then had to watch his father start a new kind of life, that Fëanáro thinks he’s not being a part of anymore. That’s a battle against irrational fears and crushing grief she’s not going to win anytime soon, but maybe she can mend at least a small part of his shattered trust.

She starts slow, giving his body all the attention that he’s left her no time for so far, after cutting his tunic and underwear off him impatiently with one of their hunting knifes. She doesn’t miss the way, he’s flinching and definitely shivering in pleasure when the cold steel touches his skin but files that away for later – they have time. That’s all she needs him to understand.

His skin is smooth velvet against her lips and salt and smoke under her tongue, and she quickly understands what makes him so addicted about doing this to her. She’s playing him like an instrument by the time her kisses and licks reach the tender nubs on his chest, sucking and occasionally nibbling until his hips thrust up against her stomach, searching for friction, and immediately retreating until he falls back down, murmuring her name.

There’s a strange kind of beauty in the way his muscles flex against his bonds when she bites, gently enough still but relentlessly, slowly raising her head, pulling his skin taut, and he cries out, trying to follow the touch. Sweat is pooling on his neck and in the deep lines of his chest. Nerdanel licks off every drop before moving to the other side.

When the nipple she’s left reddened and swollen is being caught between her firmly kneading knuckles, pulled up in tune with what her mouth is doing, for a moment, she thinks, she’s gone too far. That she’ll have to give her husband _another_ lesson now in letting her know when she does something wrong before it’s too late.

But no, his scream is not one of pain. She knows when she straightens up to hover above him and his straining length leaves back beads of white on her skin.

Nerdanel rests his hand against his flushed cheek until he opens his eyes and reaches between her legs, between his, to grab him, to rub herself all over him again until it’s her who whimpers and her muscles tighten up, yearning for him.

_Is this what you want?_

The way he thrusts into her fist says yes, the faint yearning glow in his bright eyes says no.

_Tell me_ , she urges him gently, her fingertips tracing his half-opened lips as if to draw from them what she needs to hear, what he must learn how to phrase. _Tell me what you desire. I’m_ here _to give you what you need, you don’t need to chase it. Just let me in._

There’s a shadow of hurt and memory on his face for a moment before he looks away, but the picture of his fantasy that he sends her in her head is very unambiguous, so she doesn’t push. He’ll learn. There is no hurry.

He’s been doing well, so she doesn’t keep him waiting anymore. She tastes herself, slick and sweet, when she takes him in his mouth, and the heavy stickiness of his lust, a combination that has her head swim and her own heat throb in her lower body. It’s too much to bear, she has to reach down, trying to give herself some relief. At the obscene wet sound of her own fingers, she can feel her husband growing even harder on her tongue.

She sucks and licks and strokes him the way she hopes it feels best, but she knows she’s being clumsy. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind. Her height is approving fast as she rubs her most sensitive point between the length of her fingers, the way she’s shown him in their first night, and she can’t help but wish he would tell her too what he needs to let go. To achieve that release she can see in his twitching stomach muscles, feel in his trembling thighs. But that too, will have to be a lesson for another day.

Finally, she withdraws because she wants him to come with her. At least her hand knows quite well what it’s doing already. He releases all over himself when she pants out her orgasm, and over her chest and neck as well. She’s curious as ever, so she carefully takes him back in her mouth to clean him up, humming at the heady note.

She only realizes that that smug bustard she calls her husband has made it to open his restraints after all when she brings her hand back up and he reaches for it suddenly, pulling it close to his face to lick her juices off her skin, still shaking and gasping.

“You shouldn’t have to do that yourself when I’m here, you know,” he murmurs when she shudders and rests her head against his chest, too exhausted to even think about going again, no matter how good that feels. “May I return the favor?”

She knows how much he likes to taste her, and he’s _has_ been asking nicely this time, but if they continue now, they’re not leaving this bed until it’s dark, so she reluctantly slides off of him. “Breakfast first.”

His disappointed pout makes her laugh. True, she’s married a monster, but she thinks, she can deal with that just fine. “You can use my body instead of a plate if you like.”

He seems to think that’s a good compromise, because he’s in the kitchen even before her.


End file.
